Dirty Night Clowns
by Bloody Words
Summary: (Dark Human AU. Read the Warnings) Gilbert lives in a town where everyone has a tragedy or a crime in their past. The police are useless, and criminals can run rampant if they so please. He wasn't thinking when decided that he would prove the innocence of a missing serial killer, who he believes didn't commit recent cannibalistic crimes he's been implicated in.
1. Summer Night Light

**Warnings: This story will contain suicide, murder, a lot of abuse, and many other morally wrong acts that could make one uneasy. Proceed with extreme caution and don't trust anything.**

**Note on the characters: All characters will be quite OOC for most of this story, but will show the occasional trait of their normal selves. T**he 2ps gave a lot of inspiration for the characters personalities, so expect many qualities of them to show up.****

**Extra Note: While he is the main character, Gilbert doesn't show up until chapter 4.**

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><p><em>Summer Night Light<em>

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><p>When famously stuck up John Williams died, joining his late wife, no one thought much of his son Matthew, who was fourteen when the 'tragedy' struck. Matthew was also not brought up, even as the only other one other then the deceased who had access to the kitchen, when it was declared that Mr. Williams had died from crude poison slipped into his food. It was said to have been a unique form of suicide.<p>

Matthew's files must have been lost before they could make it to Child Services, so no one came to get Matthew and put him into foster care. He was fine hanging around his house alone, not going to school because none of the teachers even realized that he was going anyway. It would have continued on like this, had his house not been sold by the bank, to a kindly and lonely ageing woman, who, after discovering him, surprisingly able to see him, had welcomed him with loving arms.

He liked her a lot, which was a near first for him. Her name was Brittney Kirkland, mother to six children whom she rarely saw, and missed. While she insisted it wasn't her motivation for adopting Matthew, he was sure it had something to do with it. He was glad she was around though, as the quiet house had been giving him an empty feeling that his nightly activities could not fill.

Brittney never questioned his decision to not go to school, seemingly because she liked having him around the entire day, and that she herself had never completed high school and had turned out fine. She also rarely brought up that he was gone most nights after she went to bed. The only time that Matthew remembered talking to her much about it was one morning where she had been worried, only for her to accept it once he came up with a convincing lie. As long as he didn't get hurt, she was fine.

If she knew what exactly Matthew did during those nights away, she would be horrified. That was why Matthew tried his best to hide all the evidence he brought back. To also help, he faked empathy whenever one of the murders – his murders – was reported on the news, known to have been committed by the famous serial killer 'The Child Choker', a hilariously inaccurate name that he gained from his first known murder, even though it was commonly known that he preferred using a hockey stick over his hands or poison.

You see, Matthew had murdered his father. It had been for no reason other then doing the world a favour. His father had been cruel, homophobic, sexist and close-minded, and thought his son should have followed his example. Matthew spent all his remembered life denying his father and his views, before finally snapping. The poison he used to do away with him had been homemade, but effective. Matthew hadn't even expected it to work like it did. If it had just gotten his father sick, he would have been happy.

He wasn't quite sure what had caused him to kill again, and again. But within a week of his father's funeral, which he did not attend, he found his hands around the neck of a child, earning him his nickname once he revealed himself to the public. As he had caught the boy bullying a little girl, he felt justified in killing him. In his mind, bad children shouldn't have been allowed to live. And it might have been over-kill to eliminate the boy's family as well, but he had observed them in the days after their son's death. They were just as evil, and that angered him, so he decided to kill them too. He had already rid the world of two horrible people; what were three more?

Many were amazed that a small fourteen year old, now nineteen,could take down an entire family with just a hockey stick and things he found lying around the house, and continue exterminating people even though his body stayed scrawny. The public knew what he did, and no one challenged him. He killed the people he saw as bad, and as long as one stayed true, they were fine. The public also had a face for him, one that was almost no different from his daytime look. But with just a pair of prescription sunglasses instead of his regular ones, somehow even he could barely recognize himself.

He really didn't even put much effort into hiding his appearance, and what he did was mostly to keep Brittney from finding out. When ever he went out to end another victim, he could be found in a red plaid dress-shirt, and dark green-yellow pants. Other then the sunglasses, only his hair was changed at all. His hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, all his bangs were pushed into his face and his stubborn curl was pinned back with clear bobby-pins. Of course, his faithful hockey stick was always in his hand.

Even if he hadn't been invisible to the world as Matthew Williams, no one would have made the connection.

"Perfect."

On the warm summer night, in which our bloody tale begins, Matthew was preparing for another hunt. Matthew always carefully researched and watched his future victims during the day, to see if a single bad act he'd seen had just been a fluke. He was almost never wrong when choosing possible victims. That night, he would trek the path to the home of Alfred Jones. He'd seen that Jones was not a very nice man, in the two weeks he had been watching him. He was a bully, not to mention arrogant and ignorant in a way that reminded Matthew of his father, both of which he hated. What was worse was that even when people had said that Matthew would come after him, he had brushed it off with a smile.

It was past midnight, and the streets outside the open window were silent with fear. After making sure he looked just right, Matthew grabbed his chipped, stained, but beloved hockey stick from the farthest shadows underneath his bed. He climbed out the window then, onto the lower roof. His house had been built on a hill, so the jump to the ground was not long or too painful. Five years had allowed him to almost perfect the jump. He could have been using the front door, but it gave him such a rush to feel like he was breaking some kind of rule.

The sweet air around him was fresh and clean, and he took a deep breath of it. This was yet another part of his obsession that he loved. He didn't just get to rid the world of bad people, but even if it was only for a short time, he got to be outside when nature was at its best.

"If there is one thing that I love more then doing the world some good, it's nature."


	2. In Which We Meet Alfred Jones

**'Bully' doesn't even come close to describing this story's version of Alfred. ****Consider yourself warned.**

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><p><em>In Which We Meet Alfred Jones<em>  
><em>(From the eyes of his 'best friend')<em>

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><p>Sometimes, Toris made bad choices, but by far his worst one had been becoming the best friend of Alfred Jones. Any reputation he had back in middle school turned to dust the moment people started noticing him around the one who made other bullies cringe in disgust, as more then just a punching bag. At the time, Toris had thought that Alfred's problems were caused by the fact that he didn't have any friends, but he had been so, so wrong, and now he was the stuck with the sadist.<p>

Currently, Toris found himself walking out past midnight for reasons he wasn't sure of, arm interlocked with that of Alfred, the blond's own way of making sure he didn't run off. If it was any other person, even that Arthur Kirkland freak that Alfred always insisted on seeing, he would have broke free, as he wasn't some submissive little boy anymore, but Alfred terrified him. Alfred scared everyone he knew in someway, since he had been picking on them all for years, and his actions were no where near innocent.

You wouldn't think that Alfred was as bad as he really was. He looked like just any college aged -not that either of them actually went to collage- young man who was happy to live in the wonderful world. But he wasn't, and his false cheerfulness was one of the things that scared everyone. There was sadism in his eyes, and insults at his mouth. One stubborn part of his hair stood as a symbol of his message to the world, telling them to back off or they'd get hurt. Only Ivan and his sister would stand up to Alfred, but it wasn't out of fear. It was anger...

Toris watched Alfred carefully, looking for more signs of danger as they walked along the dirty street. Toris already knew that there would be trouble. In the hand that wasn't being used to keep Toris from running away, Alfred was tossing up and down a stale scone. Toris didn't dare ask about it, in fear of being forced to eat it, but he was sure it was from Arthur. It was strange though, that Alfred would have that, as he hated the man's cooking just as much as anyone else. Arthur's food was just as crooked and rotten as the teeth that defined Arthur Kirkland the most.

Toris tried not to ponder too much on the scone, but he failed quite badly. Up, down, up, down. He could barely even pay attention to Alfred's rant -something about how he was totally a vegetarian and anyone who said they saw him eating a burger was a liar- and that wasn't a good thing. Up, down, up, down. "Ha, ha. You seem to really like the scone, don't you?" Toris's head shot up as he broke out of his daze, and he panicked. Alfred's grin was devious, like he was plotting something. He most likely was. Toris shook his head, trying to hide his fear. The only thing worse then Alfred was Arthur's cooking.

"I got it from Arthur. Obviously." He rolled his eyes, as if he expected that Toris would think otherwise. "I went to his house to get Tony repaired." Tony was a stuffed alien toy that Alfred had received from his father as a kid. He was very protective of it, and even a single loose thread would warrant a visit to his former baby-sitter. Arthur was the only one Alfred knew who could sew that wouldn't laugh at Alfred for still having a toy. "I made the mistake of mocking him when I saw a Scottish...thingy...you know, the outfit that Scots wear with a kilt when they dance! Anyway, since I didn't want me or Tony to get stabbed with a needle, I distracted him by eating some of his food. He'll back down on anyone who does that. Annoyingly, he made me take another scone when I left, even though I just barely gagged down the last one. I think he did that just to torture me. I mean, he can't be unaware that his cooking is poison!" All throughout this, he continued tossing the scone. Then, he spoke the dreaded words. "Here, you eat it!"

It was placed in his free hand forcefully, and he knew it hadn't been an offer. Toris gagged at the sight of it. The last time he had eaten one, he had thrown up, which was probably what Alfred was counting on. Toris had been Alfred's main punching bag ever since they two became 'friends', and seemed to find torturing him even more amusing then going after the others. Maybe it was because he knew Toris couldn't get away easily. Toris wished he could have stood up against him, but he knew better then to defy him.

Hesitantly, Toris took a bite, and quickly swallowed it, as not to get too much of the taste. But he got some of it, and the first thing he noticed was that it tasted different. But not in a good way. He pulled back the scone from his lips, and looked into the bite he had made. There were pieces of what looked like meat in it. "He's been experimenting." He stated, even though he was sure Alfred already knew.

"Yeah, I noticed. It doesn't even make it any better." Alfred replied, stopping their walk, and grabbing the scone from his hand. Quickly, he added "Because it's meat. That made it even worse having to eat the last one!" He tossed it at a cat that was peaking out of the alleyway, with a honest smile on his face. If there was one redeeming quality about Alfred, it was his apparent love for animals, at least the furry ones. Toris's only other friend Feliks often found it strange that a potential serial killer would like animals, as they were often targets of future killers. Toris always said that, while cruel, Alfred would never kill directly. He was told all his life that all serial killers were psychopaths, and while he sometimes seemed like he was one, Alfred wasn't one.

"Why so mopey, Tori? Do you have food poisoning?" Toris shook his head, as his stomach was strangely calm. Alfred flashed his trademark smile, one that would have been innocent enough if it wasn't for the look in his eyes. Toris had to remind himself that Alfred wasn't a killer for a second then. The look in Alfred's eyes changed, and Toris cringed. As Alfred let go of his hand and arm, Toris almost ran away, but he knew better. Alfred grabbed both of his wrists, and pulled him closer until their noses were touching. "Good, because we're going to have some fun tonight!" Toris blushed slightly, even though he was sure that Alfred had actually meant something completely different. Noticing this, Alfred gave him a quick peck on the cheek, just to make him more uncomfortable.

"Oh..." Toris chuckled nervously, unable to make eye contact with Alfred. "What are we going to do?" With Alfred, he could never know. It could be as simple as egging someone's house, or breaking into one for fun. Alfred was near unpredictable, so scary, and while Toris hated to admit it, he was ready to piss himself then. There was only one way out that he could think of. "Hopefully nothing too bad. The Child Choker seems to like being out on Mondays." Brilliant. The mention of the feared killer would distract Alfred, and in the long run feed his ego. Toris almost smiled, but he kept it back even when Alfred burst out into mocking laughter.

"Dude, that guy would never go after me. Sure, I may be a dick, but I'm not that bad!" Toris begged to differ, but he held his tongue. "Why would you even think he'd chose me as a victim? Is it because of Natalya?" His grin fell as he realized what he had just said. Toris's heart clenched at the thought of her. She was Alfred's only regret and Toris's biggest heartbreak. "Yeah, I shouldn't have brought her up. But really, how would he know what I did to her? It isn't exactly well known." He tried to smile again, but it failed to reach his face. A rare sign of humanity.

"Well, it's been said that he's about our age. Maybe he's a former classmate?" Toris suggested, trying not to cry. Alfred actually considered the idea, before rejecting it for reasons he wasn't sure of, and punching Toris in the face. Blood spat from his already weak nose, as he'd been punched many times before, and Toris fell to the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Toris knew that it wasn't another one of Alfred's 'playful' punches. He looked up at Alfred breify, before bowing his head down again as blood dripped down his throat and he almost choked. But he had seen fury on Alfred's face, as the blond man flexed his hand.

"Toris, I really hate it when you talk bad about our friends." Those people weren't his friends. They were fellow punching bags. "That's my job. Being mean just isn't your thing." Toris didn't say a word, in fear, as blood dripped down his chin. He made no move to soak it up. Alfred seemed disapointed by the lack of reaction. "Well, aren't you going to say anything?" No answer. "Ha, I bet you never considered that _I_ could be The Child Choker!" Toris froze up even more at the thought. Maybe Feliks had been right.

Alfred would have went on tormenting Toris, but suddenly, there was a sharp jab in his back. Before he could turn around to see what had caused it, an icy voice spoke.

"Alfie, I'm pretty sure that you're not The Child Choker. I'm standing right here myself. And do you know what I hate? People like you."

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><p><strong>With this story, I'm going against the idea that all serial killers are psychopaths (Toris saying all of them were <strong>**that**** is just his thoughts). The serial killer characters in this story are screwed up in the head, but they aren't psyc****h****opaths.**


	3. What I'll Do To You

**Thanks everyone who has kept with this still, even after seeing what Alfred is like. He actually scares me a bit, and I'm the one who wrote him. He will start acting more like his canon self soon. Also, for those of you who felt bad for Toris, don't worry. He can take it. Now, that isn't to say he'll takes it well...**

**This chapter was a bitch to write by the way, as I had to disregard my entire first draft and start over twice. I still don't think it turned out right.**

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><p><em>What I'll Do To You<em>

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><p>Alfred knew all too well that he was a horrible person. He had always known. He just couldn't stop hurting others, despite the threat that had hung over his life for five years. It made him feel better about himself; making others cry like little children. Believe him, he tried stopping many times, most desperately after Natalya's death. Sometimes he would come so close, but something would happen at home, and he would relapse. He hadn't made any attempt to break his habit for too long now, having given up the hope that he could ever be a good person. Now, he would not get that chance to clear his conscience.<p>

Not a word was said for what seemed like hours, but were really only a few seconds. Alfred hadn't turned to face the new arrival, who was waiting expectantly for a reply, but he knew from the look of pure terror on Toris's face that it was the real deal. Toris didn't even care that blood was now dripping down his throat, and if he was able to breath, he would start to choke.

Alfred kept his breathing slow, weighing his few options. No one had ever escaped the killer behind him, and rationality told him that he wouldn't be the first. But his ego, like many egos before him, was telling him otherwise. Toris noticed the look in his friend's eyes and shook his head rapidly, and would have been screaming at him if he hadn't been too scared to even take a breath. Alfred was almost ready to get this over with, when Toris was forced to breath by need of air, and he burst into the coughing fit that would have happened no matter what, inciting a reaction from the killer.

"You did that to him." The killer stated in a drawling monotone, which was mixed with a faint French-like accent, and it made him seem more terrifying than before. Not that Alfred was afraid. He finally turned around to face his hunter, a taunting smirk on his face, to hide any fear that he may or may not have been feeling then. He'd faced up against Ivan many times, and won. It didn't matter that this was a self-trained and experienced killer who stood before him, not an angry older brother mourning the loss of his sister.

"I do a lot of things to him. This is nothing new." Toris continued to cough in the background, strengthening Alfred's words in the eyes of the killer. His frown tightened as Alfred continued on. "I'm not some hero whose weakness is his desire to help others. Toris could bleed out, and I wouldn't care." Lies. Complete lies. Toris was all he had left. He may not have been able to stop hurting his best friend, but he _would be the hero_ if it meant avoiding Toris's death. A rare plan had been forming in his mind. He would distract the killer and make himself seem even worse, just in case Toris's own wrongs were known to the killer.

The killer frowned. "That really isn't a good thing. Can you see why I picked you as my next victim? You're horrible." The killer raised his hockey stick up, glaring at Alfred. The other blond just scoffed and rolled his eyes. Matthew hated the cocky ones.

"I'd like to see you try to kill me." Only then remembering he had it, as it he had never had to use it, Alfred slipped out a well-crafted knife that had once belonged Natalya. The killer didn't look all that impressed with the weapon, if his lack of reaction was really an indication. Alfred wasn't quite sure how to hold the knife, but he had vague memories of Natalya using it, so he tried to copy those memories. "If I make it out with my life, I'm totally making you my bitch."

Alfred used the killer's brief look of confusion, caused over the rare confidence and lack of fear from his recent victims, to his advantage and took the opportunity to strike, though very clumsily. But the killer was no fool, and he blocked the attack with ease, the hockey stick gaining an unnoticeable mark, hidden among the previous scratches and marks caused by wear.

The killer smiled at Alfred antics, and his previous words. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You're a slave at home after all." He chuckled softly when Alfred's face turned dark. He was expecting this reaction.

"I am not. No one's the boss of me!" Alfred took another swipe at the killer, and this time, Matthew dogged. He knew quite well what Alfred's home like was like. You got to know person at least a little bit when you stalked them for two weeks. Matthew admitted, he could see why Alfred had gone rotten. Over those two weeks, he showed noticeable signs of having once had the potential to be, if not a good person, at least one that didn't hurt others to deal with his own pain.

"No one but your stepmother, Cinder-boy." He swung his hockey stick, not as hard as he could have, into Alfred's chest, knocking him back slightly, but not giving him any damage. It gave him a few seconds to think of a plan. Matthew had intended to kill Alfred in his home, where he would have his real methods of killing all around him. What the public often ignored, was that the hockey stick wasn't how he killed most of his victims. Items he found in their homes were often the true culprits. Here outside, all he had with his hockey stick, and never had he killed with it alone.

But Matthew had found Alfred abusing his friend, and he couldn't wait until he was in his environment. He took a look at the brunette that they had ignored in favour of battle, his bloody nose still leaking blood, while he spat up more blood and coughed. He had been suffering through this for years, and not one seemed to care. No one, but Matthew that is.

Alfred was seething, his ego starting to burn. He also didn't like how the killer had looked at Toris. He somehow must have known, what Toris had also done to Natalya. Protective of his remaining friend, he jumped at the killer, actually catching him off guard, and landing a punch to his face. It had less force than Matthew expected a punch have. It could have been a return gift for Matthew's first attack against Alfred.

The two fought for what seemed like hours, the knife and hockey stick abandoned, while Toris watched in horror, wanting to cry out for them to stop, but he was too afraid that he'd be forced into the fight himself. As the killer placed a well aimed him to Alfred stomach's Toris was crying. Dried and fresh blood and tears mixed together on the pavement below him. Alfred was going to die. Alfred was going to die, and Toris couldn't do anything but watch.

The killer quickly gained the upper hand after that one punch, and Alfred was starting to lose his edge. Toris didn't know what to do. He couldn't help, but he couldn't run away. It may have been his abusive friend that was going to be beaten to death, but it still seemed so wrong. Feliks told him that Alfred was meant to go out with a bang, surrounded by smug police officers as he fell to the ground, his reign of terror ended for good.

Feliks had been wrong. They were alone, and only terror was in the air. No police officer would help if he called them. They were all too afraid of the killer, and let his murders continue in fear that he would go after their fellow officers. Though, Toris realized, even if the police wouldn't come, that didn't mean someone else wouldn't. But who could over power the killer, when Alfred was so obviously losing?

With a shaking hand, he dived his hand into his pocket, and grasped his cellphone, his lifeline. He unlocked his phone, and went to his contacts. Who? Who?! Which one of those in their social circle would do more then watch and laugh. Was there anyone close enough that they'd actually be able to get there in time. He spared at glance at Alfred. He would loose soon if Toris didn't get help.

(Why couldn't he just get up and help himself? Had Alfred really made him that weak?)

He chose the number of someone he figured would come to laugh and point, but lived close enough that he could just maybe run over in time, and at least distract the killer so Alfred could get away. If he did come, he might have a chance against the killer. He didn't even consider that it was past midnight.

**Alfred. Child Choker. Canica St. Help!**

He sent the message, and starting praying to the god he didn't even believe in. He tried to will his legs to move, but they froze themself to the ground. Thus continued Toris's death watch, as Alfred tried to continue on. Seven minutes, at most, was how long he had hang on for. Then it was three minutes, according to Toris's phone. It didn't look like he would make it.

"This is it, Jones." The killer spoke, grinning. He had Alfred on the ground. Both of them were covered in growing bruises, but only Alfred sported a bloody nose like the one he had given Toris, and black spots in his vision. "You derserved it, you villian." Matthew used his foot to kick his hockey stick up into his hands, and he raised his hockey stick to give the knock out blow.

Alfred couldn't do anything but stare up at the killer, too awestruck to even get out any words. Toris let out a cry when the killer landed the blow. It was near over. All Matthew had to do was find something sharp, and he could do away with Alfred Freedom Jones (He had scoffed at the young man's middle name when he first heard it) for good. He looked at the wide eyed friend who was on his knees watching everything.

"Sorry about this. Run, just run." He actually looked mournful. How could he not? Matthew hated when true innocents got caught up in his messes. It happened too many times. Sometimes had actually had to kill them so he could get away with his life. It was actually quite sad, and he'd gained the habit of smoking just to help with the stress.

But Toris didn't move. Even though his legs had unlocked, he couldn't move. He saw the shape in the alleyway looming up behind the killer, going unnoticed because of the killer's focus on him. He looked away, more grateful than ever before. _He_ had gotten there in time.

Matthew was confused again. But he didn't have the time to think about why the innocent wasn't running. The only sign that something was going to happen was the quiet laugh from behind him, and by the time it registered, it was already much too late.

He was suddenly pulled back and dragged by his neck into the alleyway. He screeched in surprise, but that was all he could do before rag was stuffed roughly into his mouth, blocking his airway. He was dropped to the ground, his head hitting the ground loudly. As he lost conscience, he caught the glint of green eyes, and a wide smirk from above him.

His last thought was of his mother.

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><p><strong>I think I just killed Matthew. He fell unconscious, so would be unable to remove the cloth….? Yeah, he's dead. Sorry about that. Please don't stop reading because of it, since next chapter should be when things really pick up. Since I changed my plot around, you readers should have even more enjoyment than you would have.<strong>

**Also, just because this story has 12 reviews already for the previous two chapters, it doesn't mean you shouldn't review this one or any future ones. If the chapter count becomes well more than half of the review count, I will not update for a while. Sorry, but it's how I work. I need to both attract new readers, and know my work is being enjoyed.**


	4. Gilbert's Entry

**Hello, five or six people who decided to return after what I did to Matthew. I apologize for the last chapter's ending yet again. You must understand that it had to be done, as Matthew's death sets off most of the plots in this story. **

**Also, I truly tried my best to make Gilbert like Prussia, but still fit the characterization with my take on the characters, though I believe I have failed. Sorry if you were hoping for better. I really don't like this chapter, and I may rewrite it later. As well, because it's centered around Gilbert, who is a bit different then the previous characters, the style will be a little less dark in tone in this chapter.**

**Warnings: Implications of self-harm and child abuse.**

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><p><em>Gilbert's Entry<em>

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><p>It was commonly thought that the large town was cursed, with all its suicides and its murders and crime. People were afraid to leave their homes, whether to simply go to the store for much needed food, or to move out of town. Some misfortune always seemed to befall all those that left the city limits with no intents to return. It was rare for anyone to move there, due to its reputation, and association with The Child Choker, but it was those haunts that brought Gilbert and his brother to their home of three years.<p>

Gilbert had thought the town was pretty cool sounding, always having to be on edge to stay alive. It reminded him of his old life, where a single wrong move would ruin his entire day. He wasn't supposed to want that past to return, but it was hard adjusting to not having to watch his back at all moments. It was thrilling to live there, and many of the people there were awesome, just not as awesome as him.

No matter what his brother said, it was only the thrill and haunts that brought him there. He hadn't chosen that place because he realized that many people would have grown up like he had, always being conscious of the world around them, and fighting for their lives. He didn't want to be around people like him; people he could relate to. No one could be as good as Gilbert Beilschmidt. Ludwig was crazy enough to claim that Gilbert's cries of being 'awesome' were to mask the pain he still felt, like Ludwig kept his own trauma to himself by not showing most of his emotions. But Ludwig was wrong. Gilbert couldn't care less about what their parents had done to them. He couldn't admit the truth to himself.

Another thing that Gilbert couldn't admit to was his fear of being alone. Ludwig had moved out a year ago, deciding to live instead with his Italian friend that he had met shortly after they had moved. Gilbert had spent almost every night and day distracting himself with his friends. With them, he could forget for a small while that he would return home to an empty apartment, with no little brother to berate him for drinking too much or being out too late.

That Wednesday of summer, Gilbert's worst hidden fears had come true. He ended yet another call of polite rejection, unable to believe this had happened more then twice. All his good friends found themselves busy that day and evening. Antonio claimed that he was taking Lovino 'out to lunch', Elizabeta had to do something that no doubt would contain a chase through the streets and bodily harm for whoever she was following, and those were just his closest friends. He'd received more then enough rejections from those he hung out and talked with when he just wanted a good time. Some hadn't even picked up their phones! He had expected that at least Alfred would have answered. But he hadn't heard from Alfred since early two days ago.

He was running out of numbers, and it was beginning to annoy him. "How could anyone do this to me?" Gilbert frowned, putting away his phone. He wasn't admitting defeat, but he was taking a break. His pride was taking hard hits from all this. It wasn't like he could go out drinking without at least one friend, because Ludwig had finally managed to get it through his head that he needed someone around to take him home after he had woken up after a night of heavy drinking ten kilometers out of town with a Frenchman. Gilbert smirked, remembering that morning fondly. He had enjoyed walking back to town with Francis, and they'd gotten along handsomely. It was a shame he wasn't able to get that guy's number, as he could have called to see if he was available to go out drinking with him later. He knew Ludwig would be against the idea, but all his brother had said was that he had to be with someone, not in good company.

"Who wouldn't want to go out with the awesome me?" He obliviously wondered, walking into his kitchen, deciding that it was high time to eat. He was pondering as to what he should have, when he noticed the bottle of maple syrup that he must have left out after eating breakfast. He smirked, remembering just who had given him that wonderful drug. He had met Matthew only months before, but had taken a deep liking to him, due to his calm and friendly attitude compared to Gilbert's other friends. The syrup also gave him a clear idea of what he could do that day. He didn't have Matthew's number yet, but he had been to the young man's house more then enough times, and knew just how to get there from his home. "Birdie can't be that busy. All he ever does is stay in his house or go for walks."

So it was decided. He would hang out with the awesome Matthew Williams, and all those losers would hate themselves for passing up the chance to hang out with him. Not bothering anymore to grab any food before the trip, as Ms Kirkland was a fantastic cook and loved when he came over to eat, he grabbed his house keys and left his apartment, in only a sleeveless shirt and shorts, no jacket brought despite the storm that was predicted for the day. If anyone was close enough and really looked, they would have seen the many thin scars running around Gilbert's arms. Gilbert had long since forgotten they were there, and so he never thought to cover them up. He had once seen them as an achievement, having only scars and no fresh cuts, as a sign that he had overcome weakness.

He paid no mind to the clouds in the sky as he quickly walked down the roads he knew would lead to the red brick house. He didn't really notice the other people in the streets, all of them using their time of near safety wisely and cautiously. He was more concentrated on the game on his phone, except when he knew that he was approaching a crosswalk. Normally, he would have been happy to annoy people on the streets, but getting to Matthew and Ms Kirkland's food was suddenly more important. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that he was being followed. With a mop of brown hair hiding most of his face and his striking eyebrows, combined with his dull coloured clothing, even if Gilbert had been fully aware of his surroundings, he probably wouldn't have seen the young teenager who was looking at him as if he was some kind of ghost.

The teen knew it was wrong to follow people he didn't know, but there was something about the man that set off something in his mind. The young runaway was careful not to let it look like he was following behind, all while wondering just what he was doing. It shouldn't have mattered that the man had a striking resemblance to his step father. Even if they were related, the boy knew that his Papa had estranged himself from his family long before he had met the boy's mother, and much longer before he had either died or left, so he couldn't possibly know what happened to him.

He eventually stopped walking, and just mournfully watched the man walk down a street. There was no sense in getting his hopes up, just for them to be dashed. As well, it was rare to find a kind stranger, as the runaway knew all too well. As the man walked up the stairs of a far off red house, the boy knew it was time to forget about it. This had brought back too many bad memories for him; Of his beloved mother and his wonderful brothers that he hadn't seen since he was a kid, and the step father the man reminded him of so greatly. He stiffed a sob, and kept the tears in. He still felt something drip down his cheek. He looked up at the sky, and noticed that the clouds had grown angry. "You know, I hate it when the sky tries to cry for me." He commented to nobody he could really see, before finally leaving. That was his life.

Down the street, Gilbert gleefully knocked on the door to Matthew's house. There was shuffling from inside after a long delay, and Ms Kirkland slowly opened the door. Her red eyes and terrified look wiped off the smile from Gilbert's face. This...something was very wrong if the normally cheerful Britney Kirkland was crying. "Oh, Gilbert...Matthew isn't here. He went out one night and never came back." Matthew was missing? Surely, Ms Kirkland had just misplaced him. It had happened before. Matthew wasn't very noticeable, and Ms. Kirkland knew that. It wasn't a thing to cry over. As Gilbert would find out, before he could even speak, this wasn't why the woman was crying.

"First, the police won't look for Matthew because they don't think he actually exists, and now they tell me that my son Hamish was _murdered_!" She broke into a new round of tears then, and Gilbert honestly didn't know what to do.

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><p><strong>Hamish is Scotland, just so you know. Why did I kill him off before he even appeared in the story? I like to kill off characters. Also, any guesses as to who that 'runaway boy' was? Both the basic details of Hamish's death and the boy's identity should be clear if you've been paying enough attention.<strong>

**By the way, Matthew's killer was not who you think it was. It will take a while before the real killer is revealed. **


	5. Reasons

**Is anyone still reading this?** **After this chapter, I doubt anyone will be. It's most here as a transition chapter. Not quite a filler though.**

**I'd like to thank all of you who do read this story though. It makes my saddened days great whenever I see an alert, a favourite or a review in my inbox.**

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><p><em>Reasons<em>

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><p>The air hung solemn and the awkwardness thick. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen today, Gilbert thought with some annoyance, but it was mostly masked by pity. Ms Kirkland sobbed on the couch across from the one where he sat. Gilbert didn't know what to do. All he knew was that her son was dead. Murdered. Even Gilbert knew, mostly because of his upbringing, that he shouldn't comment on it before he knew more of the story. Knowing whether his father had simply gone out for a drink and a cheat or had gone to the bar to drink away his sorrows meant the difference between a good night's rest or a painful one. He certainly didn't want to set Ms Kirkland off, even though he knew she was nothing like his parents. She was kind, and she was nice. She didn't deserve any of this.<p>

Ms Kirkland had quietly invited him in and made him a cup of Matthew's maple syrup tea. It was great that she was showing hospitality in her time of pain, but he had to reject her offers of making him anything else, though he surprised himself by saying that. It was one of the rare times he could do without anything else. She had lost a son, who she clearly had loved dearly. Gilbert could actually understand the feeling in a way. He may not have lost a son, or a daughter, but he had lost a child. His youngest brother, Otto, had been ripped out of his arms by a social worker, as the law had seen Gilbert unfit to raise a child, despite it being Gilbert who had taken care of Otto ever since his mother had dumped the babe in his arms before going out for a cigarette. None of that was cool. Gilbert still hadn't given up hope that he would one day get his littlest brother back. But that wasn't the matter at hand.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear the details..." Ms Kirkland finally said, slow and unsure, raw and dry. Tears were still at the corners of hear eyes, but she was shaking instead of sobbing. But no, he wanted to hear about everything. The woman had pricked his interest. He could even put aside Matthew's disappearance for now, no matter how unawesome that made him feel. Matthew was probably fine anyway.

"Of course I do! It would be stupid for you not to tell me. You've got me curious!" He almost added in an 'awesome me', but a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Ludwig told him that it wasn't appropriate for the time. Ms. Kirkland gave a small nod, before grabbing what Gilbert guessed was a photo album, from the side table. She flipped it open to one of the last pages, and placed it on the coffee table.

"It's probably best to start from the beginning." She pointed to one of the photos. "That's Hamish right there. It's the most recent picture I have of him." The young man looked very much like Ms. Kirkland did, right down to the eyebrows. He didn't look all that happy with whoever had taken the photo. Or he might not have been that happy of a person in general. But there was something else about him that Gilbert couldn't place. "The picture's from seven years ago, when he was twenty. He was twenty-seven at the time of his death."

"What's with the lack of recent pictures of him? Is he that camera shy?" Gilbert asked, earning a deeper from from the ageing woman. She shook her head, fresh tears sprinkling from her eyes.

"We weren't on the best of terms ever since my husband...left me. I'm actually on no good grounds with any of my children, at least the ones I can still see legally, since my oldest ones don't believe I tried my hardest to keep custody of my youngest children. They see me as a horrible mother." She closed her eyes, trying to think of a better time." I haven't seen any of them, except Arthur, in so many years. Then, out of the blue, after they've already told me that they won't search for Matthew, the police come and tell me that Hamish was found dead, _and _that they wouldn't be investigating his murder!" She hung her head, and didn't say another word.

Gilbert wasn't surprised. The police force of their town had grown so incompetent and sickly over the arrival of The Child Choker, a man that Gilbert couldn't help but admire for his dedication to his goal. It wasn't cool though, that they would deny closure to Hamish's mother. Then, it came to mind, a reason why they'd be such chickens. It _was _The Child Choker, wasn't it? Hamish was naughty enough to get himself targeted. Gilbert felt some of his pity slipping away. He actually liked what The Child Choker did for their town. He couldn't voice these thoughts though, in front of the mother of a victim. So he knew he had to fake a correct reaction.

"They are a bunch of losers!" He huffed, and glared into space. "They better of eased you into it..." Ms Kirkland made a soft sound of pain, but said nothing. Gilbert got the message though. "So they just came to your door, and said 'Hey, lady! Your son was murdered. Okay? Bye.' Idiots. They should be glad that they weren't looking for Matthew, because if he was found when they told you that, I think even he would have beat them up! I sure would have..." He didn't like seeing women cry, or be in pain. He just didn't admit it often.

"It felt like that, but there was more. They told me they found what _remained _of him. Just his head half frozen and some of his bones stripped clean, found just outside of town." Gilbert tried not to imagine that unawesome mental picture. "They said there were signs he was c-" There was a knock at the door. Then another, and two more after that. Ms Kirkland perked up, her face slightly brighter. What visitor could cause that to happen, after all her previous grief? Ms Kirkland scurried up off the couch and raced to the front door, opening it with glee, and grasping the person on the doorstep in a tight squeeze.

"Mother, please! I can't breathe!"

At the door, held in a hug, was Arthur Kirkland. If anyone had thought to look, they would have seen the truth behind everything, all in Arthur's eyes. He knew more then he would care to tell.

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><p><strong>Otto is meant to be Holy Roman Empire, and he will probably appear later in the story.<strong>

**Also, if anyone feels up to it, look up the song 'Dirty Night Clowns' (Yes this story is named after a song. But the song didn't inspire the story) and tell me your reaction to it. It's a wonderful, but chilling song.**


	6. Monster

**With this chapter, the next and maybe the one after it if need be, we** **briefly** **move away from the view point of Gilbert, and focus on Mister Kirkland and His Rouge Misfits. From what I can see of them, they are deliciously messed up. **

**Warnings: With this chapter,** **some of you readers might not be able to stomach** **it. Of course, if you've read this far into the story, so you must be already screwed up in the head. There are some disturbing ways of dealing with a murder included in this chapter, along with some implied sexual situations. As well, even though I think it's been pretty well implied in the story, your image of poor dear Ms. Kirkland may be ruined. There's also some smoking, if that's a warning I need to add. **_As well, Arthur is delusional. So very delusional. Magic doesn't exist in this story._

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><p><em>Monster?<em>

[Parallel chapter to the last chapter]

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><p>For most new residents of the feared town, there were two main reasons for coming to the dreaded place. Either they knew the truth or they didn't. Some thought that the town couldn't really have been as scary as it really was, while others thought they'd fit in. Clueless families would move there, attracted by the often sarcastic claims that bullying was near non-existent. Arthur almost had to feel bad for those families, who came here to start a new life for their children, only for those people to be thrown to the scraps as everyone started to hate them, for trying to make life in the town seem like a good thing. These people often left town in a haste, dying in a car accident before they could even reach their new destination.<p>

Arthur was among those who felt that the town was cursed, an enchantment cast by someone powerful out of spite for those of the past. He theorized that the heavy blanket of the spell had fallen over the skies of the town, effecting everyone, and enhancing emotions. People acted quicker or more harshly then they would without it, which had led to the widespread crime rate. Those who had chosen to live there unconsciously became connected to the spell, growing dependent on the power and lies it fed their brain, and when they left it for good, their mind couldn't take it and led them to make decisions that got them killed. Honestly, it wasn't a huge leap, and he couldn't understand just why everyone he told his theory to mocked him without considering how much that hurt him.

No one had entertained Arthur's tales of magic once he reached a certain unreasonable age, except maybe William, but with him, Arthur could never quite know. To most of those around him, he should have left those beliefs behind a long time ago, not keeping up with them at the age of twenty-three. That had left him bitter inside, and feeling a different kind of lonely. It was not being able to relate to anyone despite having a couple friends, despite them also thinking him weird and strange.

But honestly, despite Arthur's supposed delusions, he was quite certain that his friends were more messed up then him. After all, it hadn't been him who suggested _cannibalizing _his murdered brother, or tossing some used or useless body parts out for the more useless police to find occasionally. Arthur starred at cupcakes he had just finished preparing, holding the last one hesitantly. Despite originally coming from vanilla cupcake batter and vanilla icing, both were stained an odd pink colour. Arthur had mixed together some dried blood into both of them, to add to the stigma. Maybe he was just as insane as his dear friends. It was he who was preparing to give his mother cupcakes filled with the blood and body of her oldest son. The best part, was that he knew she would eat them, as long as he was around, since she thought not eating them would upset him. Honestly, he didn't care anymore. He was aware he was a bad cook, but did it really matter, when his roommate was able to cook well enough for them both to survive?

He'd made them without his roommate's help, so he wasn't sure how it would taste. He could have taken a bite, but he had sworn when this had all began, that he would never consume any of the food made with his brother. It wasn't some sentimental thing, as he had quite disliked Hamish –a factor in the pseudo-Scotsman's death– but more of some resemblance of morals. Morals. He was thinking about morals, and he was going to turn his mother in a forced cannibal.

Arthur loaded the frosted cupcakes into a plastic container, and then that into a bag. He considered the idea of bring a few other things with him, but shook the idea off, deciding that it would be rude to do something other then talk with his mother. He looked at the clock on the microwave, noting that his roommate would have at least a few more hours before he'd return home, and Alfred would continue sleeping for longer then that. He didn't want to leave Alfred in his home by himself, but he needed to go see his mother today and in the earlier hours, instead of in the days after, to make it seem like he actually cared about her and Hamish. He was such a wonderful family member.

Due to being distracted for a few hours by the cupcakes, and not being one anymore to constantly look at the weather forecast, Arthur was unaware of the approaching rain, until he had already stepped out of the house with the bag, and it filtered into his nostrils. He didn't care to return inside the house for a coat though, as he loved the rain. It was so calming. He greatly welcomed it, but he hoped there wouldn't be heavy rainfall while he was walking. His roommate had taken the car, not knowing of Arthur's plan for revenge, so Arthur we have to walk. While he wouldn't have minded going on a longer one, his mother had made sure to get the closest house as she could to her son 'without' coming off as being too close. He had about 12 blocks to walk, and while that did leave some room for trouble, Arthur figured that there wouldn't be much hassle.

Still making sure to mind his surroundings, Arthur thought about much of what was happening and what had happened before all this madness. Why did he hate his mother enough to want to feed her the dead son she had only just heard of the loss of, despite him already being dead for five days? It all connected back to when his step father, who he had actually quite liked, had disappeared. Arthur had grown up for a while without a father, as had all his older brothers and his younger brother Dougal. They were just five faceless men from their mother's long past, and while they didn't mind all that much, there was the occasional ache whenever they heard other people talking about having both parents. The older boys didn't want a father though, and little Dougal had been too young at the time to care. Luitger Beilschmidt had changed that.

Luitger was meant to be just another man Arthur and his brothers found on the living room couch, crashing after a hard night of drinking and fucking with their mother (She never liked sharing a bed after she was done with her lover, something that Arthur had never gotten), who would eventually leave after glaring or grinning at the boys, his face forgotten almost as soon as he walked out of the door, but the constant disgust remained in their stomachs until noon. Mornings were always a pain then, as it was awkward to be around their mother after they knew what she did the night before, while they were all asleep with their ear phones in.

But Arthur had woken up one cold winter day, curled up with his brothers in their shared bed, to the smell of sausages, pancakes and so many other great things that his mouth started to water. Since none of his brothers were waking up as well, nine year old Arthur had gone to investigate on his own. As he exited into the small living room, he was surprised to see no man sleeping on the couch. Noises he hadn't heard until then were coming from the kitchen, and they didn't sound like his mother's dainty clattering. Any normal boy his age would have been a little scared then, but at the time, Arthur thought that he would be a pirate, sailing the seas, on a quest to save the Faerie Prince. He wasn't afraid, so he calmly walked through the entrance to the kitchen. He found a tall man he didn't recognize, with long blond hair, pulling scones out of the oven. Arthur couldn't help but gasp then, catching the attention of the man. He smiled at young Arthur. It wasn't like any smile that he and his brothers had be given before by their mother's bedmates.

"_Hey, excuse me!" _Arthur was brought of his deep thinking when a hand was placed on his shoulder, though it felt like nothing more then a light tap. He jumped slightly, and turned around on his heel to face whoever it was, able to defend himself if need be. The was a reason why Alfred rarely went after him, one which his friend would never admit to happening. It was the reason Toris called him a freak, and why everyone in Alfred's punching circle knew of him. He was still proud.

"I was having some quite thinking time there!" Arthur growled at the young man, who didn't look at all like he was going to attack. He actually looked quite harmless, despite showing signs of being in a recent fight, and the long blue coat with a dark pink shirt underneath didn't help add an air of threat to him. Arthur almost regretted snapping at him when the man's violet eyes lost some of their confidence. Had the young man been reluctant to get his attention? He should have, approaching a stranger in the street. "So what do you want?" Arthur asked impatiently. The young man gulped, holding up a cigarette between two fingers, and smiled politely.

"I was wonder if you had a lighter. Francis says that smoking isn't good for me, so he stole all the cigarettes and the lighter I had stashed in my clothing, but after all that's happened to me these past days, I really needed at least one. When I snuck out to the store to buy replacements, I got my cigarettes, but today happened to be the time when they didn't have any lighters left...so, do you...?" Arthur sighed, deciding that he might as well say yes. He was just a guy looking for a stress reliever. He fished out a lighter he'd gotten from the recent Canada Day celebration, and handed it over to the young man, who's eyes lit up like fireworks.

"Than...thank you!" He gleefully lit up the cigarette and took a long drag of it, before holding the burning end close to the strange curl that hung off his hair. This was most likely unintentionally, as he quickly moved it farther down. He held the lighter out to Arthur. "Here's the lighter back." But Arthur shook his head.

"No, keep it. I've got a lot more at home. You seem to need it more then me." The young man's eyes lit up again, more then should have been possible. "Good day, now." He said, bowing his head, and turning around again. If he remembered correctly, he was only about a block away from his mother's house now. How time flew when you were thinking of the woes of the past. He hadn't even noticed that it had been raining lightly.

Soon he was on his loathed mother's doorstep, knocking in his signature 'four knocks' way. Only moments after finishing the last one, the door was flung open, and his mother captured him in an unwanted hug. He wanted to push her off, but he unfortunately had to keep up appearances.

"Mother, please! I can't breathe!" He tried, using a believable lie. Yet, she didn't let go. Why wouldn't she let go?

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><p><strong>Luitger = Germania. You'll have to wait a bit before you find out more about his past with the Kirkland family. Thanks a lot Matthew...you should have stayed dead. Or died in the first place.<strong>

**Also, I should probably get the 'mystery' of the names of all of Arthur's brothers (minus Sealand/Peter) out of the way. Scotland is of course our dearly departed Hamish. Ireland is the grumpy Eoin. Wales is the light headed, and way too happy William. Northern Ireland is the sad faced Dougal. Dougal originally had a different name, but it needed to change. Anyone who I gave the other name to, disregard it.**


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